


An Eye for an Eye is Crude, but Accurate

by Boom



Series: Teen Wolf Bites [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Magical Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 04:25:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4086739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boom/pseuds/Boom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Stiles isn't a druid, or a mage, he's not fae, and he's definitely not all human. But there's one thing Derek is absolutely sure of: Stiles is there, exactly when you need him.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>This is a scene from a longer work I may or may not post. Can be read as a stand alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Eye for an Eye is Crude, but Accurate

Derek felt nauseous as he trudged behind his sister down the broken sidewalk on the south side of Beacon Hills. The neighborhood was run down, covered in graffiti and shoes hanging on telephone wires. Trash covered the street, collecting along the road where great black bags sat rotting in the heat of the summer night. The heat, the sweet stench of sewage and refuse… Derek had to stop twice to throw up nothing before they got to the building. It wasn’t anything special, looking like the tenements to the left and right of it: the lower windows were covered with iron bars while the door was painted a garish, faded purple. Mountain ash covered in layer upon layer of wolfsbane. Derek had no doubt the black iron was hand forged and the door handle was real silver and bronze, not just a rusted mismatch handle and frame. The place reeked of magic and just standing in front of it made Derek retch again. Laura pressed a firm hand between his shoulders in comfort before leading the way up the stoop. Derek held his breath as she knocked quickly on the door, hissing and shaking out her hand when the laced paint burned her knuckles. Nothing happened. Laura knocked again. Derek gazed bleary eyed around the street while they waited longer. The pots were filled with weeds, dandelions and clover, but they looked to be the only green and living thing for blocks. An old man limped along, pushing a broken cart down the sidewalk. He parked it under a light pole and sat out a little beach chair. He turned back to his sister who was frowning.

“Let’s just go,” he said, feeling an increasing need to lay down.

“Deaton told us this guy would help,” she insisted.

“He’s obviously not home,” Derek pointed out.

Laura shook her head, “He has to be.”

“Maybe he’s dead in there,” he grumbled, earning him a swat.

“Shut up, he’s not dead.”

“Can you hear a heart beat?” Derek snapped.

Laura growled low in her throat, shutting Derek up instantly.

“I’m not giving up. And neither are you,” she gritted, taking Derek’s wrist in her painful grasp, she started banging on the door in earnest, “Hey! Hey you stupid son of a bitch open up! Come on you freaking vampire witch whatever the fuck you are!”

“Laura!” Derek couldn’t help feeling scandalized as Laura grabbed her hand, swearing a blue streak from the pain.

“He’s in there Derek I can feel it!”

“Laura what the hell is wrong with you?” Derek nearly shouted, his head swimming.

“Derek! Shit— _Derek_!” Laura swooped down, not doing much more than slowing his fall to the steps.

The pounding grew louder in Derek’s ears, sounding like it was surrounding him, filling him until he realized…. it wasn’t his own heart. It wasn’t Laura’s either and slowly he turned, staring in shock at the old man, who stared back pounding, pounding on his own chest, mimicking a heart beat until—

He stopped. And there was absolute silence. What had once been if not a bustling street at least a relatively active one, was now dead quiet. Derek strained his ears but for miles all there was, was nothing. Only his and Laura’s hearts broke the silence. Not even the old man, who sat in his chair staring, smiling pleasantly with broken, blackened teeth, not even his heart beat.

Then the door opened, jerked inward by a boy who frowned down at them, still huddled where Derek had collapsed on the stoop.

“Are you Laura?” he asked.

Laura scrambled to her feet, pulling Derek up with her, “Are you Aisl—“

“Stop,” the boy held up a hand with a pained expression, “Please just call me Stiles. Come in, put him over there.”

Derek couldn’t see more than warn wooden floorboards before he was set in a very cushy, very warm arm chair.

“I thought you’d be older,” Laura commented from what felt like very far away.

Stiles snorted, sliding a rolling stool up to Derek and taking a seat right between his knees. He was wearing glasses, which Derek hadn’t noticed, and his eyes were bright, looking like flecks of gold, or amber, or sand ladened clay in a shallow creek. Stiles smiled warmly at him, and Derek could help smiling back.

“The Gift is,” Stiles replied to Laura, “The body isn’t. What’s his name?”

“Derek.”

“Hey, Derek,” Stiles greeted sweetly, “I’m going to poke you a little bit okay? Tell me if anything hurts.”

Derek hissed at the first prod, but Stiles didn’t stop, apparently looking for something else. When he didn’t find it, he sat back, eyes calculating.

“Dehydration, stomach, fever…” he muttered, taking both of Derek’s hands in his and resting them on his thighs. He closed his eyes, still muttering, “Mad case of vertigo… Dude how did you even make it here?”

“Followed my Alpha,” Derek replied. Stiles grinned up at Laura who was hovering just within reach.

“When was the last time he ate?” Stiles asked, releasing Derek’s hands with a light pat and getting to his feet.

“Two days ago,” Laura’s frown deepened as Stiles gently tilted Derek’s head forward, long, steady fingers carefully pressing down along Derek’s vertebrae until about mid-spine. Derek leaned his weight into Stiles’ stomach, the cool fabric of his shirt giving him brief respite. Stiles didn’t move him, instead sending his fingers behind Derek’s ears and through his hair, pressing firmly on his scalp until the pain was excruciating. Derek roared, his eyes shifting blue and his fangs dropping as he tried to get out of Stiles still gentle, but firm grip.

“There it is,” Stiles murmured, keeping his tone compassionate, “I know, I know, it’s okay, we’re done for now.”

Derek whimpered as Stiles pulled away, moving to the other end of the room. Derek closed his eyes, burying his head in his hands as Laura spoke, “What’s wrong with him?”

“Deaton said in his call your pack got in a fight with a… what was it, a basilisk?”

“Yeah, a few weeks ago,” Laura sounded confused, “But Derek was fine until this past week.”

“Well that’s not surprising, you’re werewolves,” Stiles sat back in front of Derek, a small bowl of grey sludge balanced precariously on his lap while he pulled on a pair of latex gloves, “His body was healing around it. He probably had a headache for a little bit, then it got worse and worse once the fragment started winning over his biology. Tilt your head again for me, Derek. Awesome. Laura, could you hold his arms please, this is going to hurt a lot.”

Derek closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as Stiles pulled out a pair of pliers form his back pocket, “Derek, I need you to stay as still as you can for me.”

The next ten minutes were arguably the most excruciating of Derek’s life as a complete stranger dug into his skull and pulled out a shard of a basilisk’s fang while his sister all but sat on him to keep him restrained.

Stiles triumphant, “Got it!” did nothing to elevate Derek’s mood. He groaned, feeling his skin pulling and itching where it futilely attempted to come together around the leaked poison in his scalp.

“Not too bad,” Stiles held up the pliers so Derek could see. The piece wasn’t big at all, only about a quarter of an inch at it’s thickest point, but a thin streak of the poisonous center (a pale pink line Derek would have missed if Stiles hadn’t pointed it out) crawled up the side and that, Stiles explained, was the danger.

“Alright, now for the good part,” Stiles leaned Derek’s head just a bit more forward and lathered in the grey paste, which had an instant cooling and numbing affect.

“I can’t give you anything for the poison,” Stiles apologized, “But this stuff will numb the area until your body absorbs the last of it and heals itself properly. Just apply it whenever you feel you need it. Use it as liberally as you want.”

“How much do I owe you for this?” Laura asked, pulling out her wallet, “I’ve got three hundred, but if you need more—“

"No, no, please,” Stiles motioned for Laura to put it away, “I work in favors, not money.”

Laura stilled, hand extended with the wad of cash, “Favors.”

“Yeah,” Stiles smiled, standing once again from his chair and going over to apparently make more for the numbing paste, “You know, like deals and such.”

“What exactly will this deal entail?” she asked, her words going icy. Derek stiffened in his seat, but Stiles just shook his head.

“Its nothing like that, it’s work where work is due,” he replied, “I pulled a splinter of bone from your beta’s head, and some day in the future I’ll ask him to clean my gutters or something.”

"That’s it?”

Stiles paused in his stirring, giving Laura a good long look, “I’ll only take what I’m due, I promise you that."

Stiles boxed the paste in an old tupperware container and handed it to Laura. When Derek stood, Stiles handed him an obnoxiously large bottle of water with a smile, “You two take care of yourselves. Don’t be strangers.”

Laura hustled them out before Derek could say thank you. Outside the street was still quiet, but the heartbeats were back, and the sun was just creeping over the city. The old man stared a hole through Derek as they walked back the way they’d come, still smiling with broken, blackened teeth.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated, thank you for reading!


End file.
